London's Heathrow Airport

I hate airports.

They're the places you go when your winged unicorn is sick, or your broomstick's broken, or your magic carpet's got holes.

When all these conventional methods of transportation are denied you, you go to the airport.

The airport is a sign of FAILURE.

And here I am, at London's Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, since my unicorn went on strike for better working conditions and more glitter.

I've just gone through customs, which is a rather unpleasant experience. Basically, your human dumps their bag, coat and electronics, as well as you, into a plastic box, a bit like a school dinner tray with evil intentions, and shoves the whole thing through an x-ray machine.

So now some staff at Heathrow presumably know that I ate lembas for breakfast, am not carrying any weapons, and have a head full of wool.

And now I can chill out with my best gangsta pose by the shops. They sell an odd assortment of products, these shops. You can get a multipack of Kitkats, so you can stuff yourself throughout the flight, or a designer bag, in which to sleep in during the flight (so long as you're elf-sized).

There's free wi-fi, but it doesn't work. I wiggled my ears left, right and centre to try and pick up the signals, but no. Apparently the wi-fi is incompatible with elves.

And now for the ultimate indignity.

To get to some of the gates (mine was in section C), you have to get there via a transit train, a bit like a London Underground train with a very short track.

It was kind of busy, and my human was worried about me falling though the gap, so she picked me up.

She picked me up.

SHE PICKED ME UP!!!

No one tosses a dwarf, and no one picks up an elf.

The picture above is testimony to my suffering.

And finally, onto the plane. I travel economy. Now, everyone complains about the lack of legroom in economy, but quite frankly, I don't see what they're complaining about. As you can see, there is plenty of space to run around, play football and race a horse.

Once I went first class, and got lost somewhere between the armrest and the oxygen mask.

And the food included lobster, which is a type of gigantic monster twice the size of the average elf.

Oh no. Economy is great.

At this point during the flight, I decided it was high time for a skydive. Just look at those clouds! It would be like the ultimate trampoline.

But alas, I couldn't open the window. I should put in a complaint.

Anyway, when I get to my destination I think I might write a special series of posts from Abroad. Keep your eyes peeled, your seatbelts fastened and that bungee rope steady.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Forbidden Planet: not actually a planet.

So. It's way too early in the morning, and I'm standing outside a shop. Voluntarily.


Now, what are the likely reasons for such strange behaviour? Please choose the likely answer from below.

1. Kim Kardashian is inside, filming her latest attempt to break the internet.
2. It's raining outside, and inside looks dry.
3. Kim Kardashian is outside, filming her latest attempt to break the internet, and inside looks safe.
4. There's merchandise inside I want to buy.

Now, if it's 1. or 3. you selected, you have spent too long on the internet. Your cat needs feeding. Go to her now.

If it's 2. you selected, you have spent too long in London. Go home. Oh, London is your home? That's awkward.

If it's 4. you selected, you have spent too long on this blog. I love you. Please, never change.

So, this is Forbidden Planet on Shaftesbury Avenue, in Central London. It sells all kinds of movie merchandise, comic merchandise, TV merchandise..........you get the idea.

And their window displays entice you closer - but what I like is that they actually put the prices in the window display. Most shops don't. It's only until you walk in and realise that you have to sell your cat to afford anything (well, you never feed her anyway, you horrible specimen of Mordor) that you take a step back in horror and become all Gollum-like - 'We wants it, yessss, my preccccccccciiiiiiiiiiiiiouuuuuuuuuuuuussssssssss'. Most unfair.

With the prices in the window, you can do that outside.

And return after the sale of Mr Tibbles........

TO BUY ALL OF THIS.

So, I've always wanted a pet human, and I got one, and he's called Jaime Lannister. We're the same height! Isn't that great? I suggest that all elves get a pet human. The ones from Forbidden Planet tend to have difficulty thinking/getting outside the box for some reason, but you can't have everything!

The sword is to defend my homeland, conquer other peoples' homelands, and to, umm, open letters.

I even got a pack of cards. They say 'You win or you die' which I think is an excellent intimidation strategy against my opponent in Snap. The cards have the Jacks, Queens, Kings, Aces and Jokers emblazoned with pictures of the main characters. I love how Cersei is on both the Baratheon and Lannister cards, in a valiant attempt to avoid giving away spoilers.

Oh, and she's quite fit too. Don't tell Jaime I said that.

And finally, in case Jaime does find out and I have to make my escape, I have a travel pass holder to help me travel in style.

And in the worst case scenario, I can jump inside the sturdy plastic bag my purchases came in.

He'll never find me there.

See you later,

Elf Dryadalis

Boxing Day Sales 2014

I'm sorry if I haven't been posting for rather a long time. I'm still recovering from the Boxing Day sales.

Uh-huh.

They were that exhausting.

If you're visiting my blog from abroad, firstly, welcome, and secondly, you might be wondering what on earth these 'Boxing Day sales' entail if they mean a three-week recovery period.

That, my friends, is what Boxing Day is about.

SALE.

Prices fall, shops discount their Christmas ranges (so you look at the gift set you got for Auntie Elfia and feel like you've been ripped off, and decide to get her present for next Christmas today), and shoppers crowd into spaces you didn't even know shoppers could crowd into.

Bluewater Shopping Centre in Kent was the destination of choice for thousands of humans and one elf.

Oh, and one seagull swooping in on the action.

And several ducks, a couple of swans............

PRACTICALLY EVERYONE.

Anyway. Back to the shopping.

With Accessorize selling, um, accessories at half price, I couldn't resist going in. Only to realise, of course, that what they sell as 'handbags' are for me, 'sleeping bags'.

If you're planning to go this year, make sure you get there early, since there are so many people jostling around. Otherwise it kind of turns into Game of Thrones.

Look, see? Houses Baratheon and Stark have already put up their banners.

*shudders*

I'm getting out of here.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Christmas shop windows in Oxford Street

It's okay. You're not hallucinating. This is actually a penguin giving a cookery lesson.

In the shop window of John Lewis.

The penguin's not real.

'Oh dear!,' you exclaim, 'I've already called the RSPCA'.

Right then. That's your attitude, is it? Here's a penguin, happily making a calorific monstrosity for its kids, and you think it's cruelty. Think about your poor old Elf. I walked around for three hours to reach the penguin cookery demonstration (that is to say, the penguin doing some cooking, not someone cooking a penguin), and have a good old glimpse of all the shop windows along Oxford Street too.

The things I do for this blog.

Anyway, here I am proud to present to you, the famous (not really) Elf Dryadalis' Award for the Best Window Display. Let's go through the countdown.

5) Marks and Spencer

'What's that?' you ask, 'A multi-storey car park?'

Well, yes, I admit that it isn't exciting. In the slightest. The strings of lights change colour, and that's about it. It's in fifth place because I admire Marks and Spencer's cheek in using the same old 'Magic & Sparkle' advertising manta for about the millionth year in a row.

The changing colours are also vaguely hypnotising.

4) Debenhams

'Found it!' the advertising proudly proclaims. Yes, my dear, but what have you found? The perfect present? Old socks you dropped down the sofa last year? I presume it is the former, although, you never know, Debenhams does smell, sorry, sell, socks.

It's an impressive horde, certainly, but it's just overwhelming. All the products are just piled up, and I'm not getting the 'I MUST HAVE THAT SPARKLY THING RIGHT NOW' vibe. And let's face it, vibes for sparkly things are what Christmas is all about. (Who's Jesus? Never heard of the guy).

Aha. So that's what the 'Found it' tag is for. Someone found the building. And stuck a tag on it. Mystery solved.

3) Boots

Aww. This looks so traditional. That is to say, as traditional as you can get with metres of electrical lights, modern plastics and synthetic sparkles. But you get what I mean. It's got stars, it says 'Merry Christmas' (why, thank you, but it's only the 3rd of December), it screams at you from across the street.

Oh, and I have no idea if it's actually coming from Boots, but around that area of Oxford Street, fake foam snow is falling. It looks cool, and confuses everyone.

And you think, 'Oh dear, this might be slippery, I might have to get new boots'. And by magical advertising osmosis, you think, 'Boots!' and run across. Only to realise they don't actually sell boots.


2) John Lewis

They have a penguin in a bra. That should surely mean John Lewis cinches the top spot, but it's just that I'M SICK OF PENGUINS. They're everywhere. On that bloomin' advert, sold in stores (not the real ones! Put down your phone to the police), even in little promotional flyers advising me to adopt one this Christmas. Penguins are bigger than me, okay. I'm not adopting anything that could stomp me.

You might think that putting a penguin in a bra is rude. Well, just wait till you see this.

Perhaps it's time to move on.

In other news, penguins have been so sick of appearing on screen that they've seized equipment and are turning the cameras back on the humans.

In this shocking image, we see a full-sized penguin in a heated confrontation with the black cylinders of doom.
I presume that this is meant to make us buy cameras. But I'm too busy wondering how a penguin could possibly operate the controls on a DSLR, and whether or not the cameras would freeze up in an arctic environment. I tried asking the penguins, but they were unresponsive. So rude.

1) Selfridges

Father Christmas has given up. He followed his new GPS to try and find some kids' homes, and after ending up in a cul-de-sac, a disused quarry and a ditch, he's finally gone back to the paper version.

However, he now needs a hammer to break out of Selfridges' shop window.

Here, Selfridges gives the unwitting shopper due warning: this window is gold, because you'll need plenty of it to buy anything inside. A great 'Buyer Beware' campaign.

Umm, that's not an entire building stuffed inside a window - it's just the reflection (unless the building had GPS too, and went the same way as Father Christmas).

It's so sparkly. Selfridges has turned its products into set pieces, and made the shopper want to look in the windows, rather than hurry by, muttering dark thoughts about how Scrooge had the right idea (although of course, you may be muttering this anyway if you walk in and see the prices).

Selfridges is very confident of itself; it's even called its shop 'Destination Christmas' (so that's what Father Christmas typed into his sat nav). It's framed by a couple of mushrooms, which either give the place an 'Alice in Wonderland' type feel, or make you consider smoking a couple to get over the stress of Christmas shopping.

If you're feeling the it's the latter, I suggest you just cancel Christmas. There's no point in smoking mushrooms out of stress, when you could just wait until Boxing Day, buy up all the half price Christmas puddings, and get high on those instead.

And finally, a personal note, if I may. Of course I may, it's my blog. I notice this stunning unicorn advertising what looks like a doormat. Or it could be a £1000 throw. You never know these days.

Anyway, I applaud Selfridges' brave decision to help increase the employment rates amongst my fellow fantasy creatures. It's a long hard road until we are represented in Parliament, but until then, we'll be campaigning for equal labour rights and representation in the boardroom.

Mental? Perhaps. But so would you be if you spent three hours walking along Oxford Street near Christmas time.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

 

Moomin Shop

'That's it, I'm leaving,' you say, finger poised to close your web browser in disgust,'Elf's gone flirting again'.

Relax, dear readers. Unstoppably attractive, handsome, sexy and aesthetically perfect as I am - why are you whispering, 'But hardly modest, you little bugger' ? - I must say that Moomintroll is not the latest of my romantic conquests.

No - I am in fact at the Moomin shop in Covent Garden, which does a roaring trade in smuggling little hippopotami (hippopotamuses? hippoppoppoooie.......never mind), out of Finland, packaging them up and selling them to Tourists Who Do Not Know.

Kind of.

In fact, up these stairs, as you may have guessed from the rather in-your-face arrow, is The Moomin Shop, which sells keyrings, mugs, books.......pretty much anything which may be adorned with a Moomin.

In my book, that's pretty much everything.

And here are Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden, cowering beneath a tree as they listen to tales of an elf sneaking around in the woods. Listening in, I get kind of frightened as well.

Apparently, it's around 6 inches high, with blonde hair and a green cloak.

That's bloomin' scary.

If you see it, please let me know so I can make my escape.

If you're planning to visit this shop, you probably need to sell your house, cat and grandmother. It's very expensive. If you don't want to be shocked when you turn up, look on the website first, which I have selflessly and tirelessly provided the link for here (it took an entire 15 seconds, you know).

I also searched the shop high and low for something that can be bought without selling Mr Tibbles, and alas - a small blue eraser, with Moomintroll moomin' on it (you get what I mean. No? Never mind) and the words 'The Moomin Shop, London' on it too. That's just in case you forget which shop would sell you something with a Moomin on it, and you go round the whole of London searching for it, only for someone to suggest, 'Ummm.....the Moomin shop?', and you go round the whole of London kicking yourself for not realising.

That's why the wording is there.

Anyway - the eraser is 60p, perfectly affordable (as in, it's pretty much how much you'd expect to pay for an eraser).


Now, what exactly can I erase?

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis